The plate of homemade cookies between them seemed absurdly normal against the backdrop of murder and delusion Jenna had just described.
“So she just...confessed?”Mom asked, reaching for another cookie.“After everything she did?”
“She did.No lawyer, no demands.Just sat there and explained it all like she was reciting a grocery list.Vivian believes she was protecting children by murdering people who sanitized fairy tales.In her mind, she was restoring some kind of balance—making the world acknowledge darkness so kids would be prepared for it.”
“Those poor victims,” Mom whispered.
Jenna shuddered.“But the doll, Loyalynne—that's what seemed to drive her most of all.Vivian believes Loyalynne speaks to her, guides her.Has since she was a child visiting Ida Billings's house.”
“Sounds like the psychologists will have their work cut out,” Mom said.
“Yes, they will,” Jenna said.“Vivian created an entire mythology around this doll—believed it was her protector, that it could have saved her from childhood trauma if only Ida had let her take it home.”
Mom reached across the table and squeezed Piper's hand.“Well, thank God for you, sweetheart.Without your help, who knows how many more people she might have hurt?”
Piper's smile was thin, her eyes distant.“I just told what I saw.What I heard.”
“You did more than that,” Jenna insisted.“Your communication led us straight to Ida's house.If we'd been even five minutes later...”She didn't finish the thought.They all knew what would have happened.
“Mom's right,” Jenna added.“You saved Ida's life.”
Piper nodded, but her usual spark was missing.The shadows beneath her eyes seemed deeper than they had the last time she’d seen her.The voices and visions that plagued her—that had helped catch a killer—had clearly taken their toll.
“I think I need to sleep,” Piper said suddenly, pushing her chair back.“Today was...a lot.”
“Of course, honey,” Mom said.“You rest.We'll clean up.”
Piper hugged them both—quick, perfunctory embraces—and disappeared from the kitchen.Her footsteps sounded unnaturally heavy, as if each one required deliberate effort.
Mom waited a few minutes before turning to Jenna.“She seems off.More than usual, I mean.”
“It's been an intense couple of days for her.For all of us.But especially for Piper—learning to deliberately use her abilities instead of fighting them.”
“Do you think it's helping her?Working with you on cases?”
Jenna considered this, remembering how Piper had just described the voice that warned her about the fire at Ida's house—urgent but clearer than the confused babble that usually filled her head.
“I think so.It's giving her purpose, a way to channel what happens to her instead of being overwhelmed by it.”
Mom's eyes glistened.“I never thought I'd have both my girls at my table again.And working together...”She shook her head, as if the reality still surprised her.
“We're figuring it out,” Jenna said, squeezing her mother's hand.“Day by day.”
“You're good for each other.You always were.”Mom gathered the empty mugs.“Even when you were little, you balanced each other.You were the cautious one, she was the dreamer.”A soft smile played at her lips.
Jenna felt a pang of tenderness for her mother, who had weathered so much loss only to find herself with her family somehow pieced back together.Different, damaged, but whole in a way that once seemed impossible.
“I should get home,” Jenna said, standing.“Tomorrow will be a long day.Paperwork doesn't file itself, even after you catch the bad guy.”
Mom walked her to the door.“You know you're always welcome to stay.”
“I know, Mom.”Jenna hugged her.“Love you.”
“Love you too, Jenna Marie.Drive safe.”
The night air hit Jenna like a splash of cold water as she walked to her car.Stars pierced the October sky, impossibly bright against the darkness.
As she drove through Trentville's empty streets, past shuttered storefronts and darkened houses, the town slept around her, peaceful and oblivious.But Jenna knew better.She'd seen too much in her years as sheriff, heard too many whispers from the dead in her dreams.Trentville's quaint exterior masked secrets—old grudges, buried sins, things that festered in the dark until they erupted in blood and pain.